


The Art of Being Human

by freakfangirlings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Angels, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Bisexual Female Character, Bonding, Canon Universe, Case Fic, Character Death, Crushes, Death, Demons, Drama, Fear of Death, Feels, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Gore, High School, Loss, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, No Sex, No Smut, No Tentacle Sex, OC, OC Teen, Original Character Death(s), POV Third Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, Plot, Psychological Drama, School, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Small Towns, Teacher Dean, Teacher Dean Winchester, Teacher-Student Friendship, Teen Crush, Teen OC, Teenagers, Unrequited Crush, u - Freeform, w - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakfangirlings/pseuds/freakfangirlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes up a position at a local High School to solve a case involving the deaths of multiple teenagers. Things get more involved than he would have hoped when what they assumed was a simple shape-shifter problem turns out to be so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Really Shouldn't Be Meeting Like This

                There were a few attractive teachers at Fredericksville High. Mrs. Penney, Mr. Rosborough, and Mr. Milne were just about it, so word spread quickly when Mr. Ackles was hired. His rugged jaw and green eyes became infamous among the parent committee mothers. Let’s not even begin to speak of how the student body reacted. Yes, Jensen Ackles caused quite a stir which was the last thing he wanted. He would have preferred to have gone completely unnoticed; an in-and-out job.

            “Honestly Sammy, I don’t think I can do this,” ‘Mr. Ackles’ sighed, taking a swig from his glass.

            “Dean, c’mon,” Sam scowled.

            “I’m serious, Sammy, they’re practically throwing themselves at me. I can’t handle this.”

            “They’re kids, Dean,” hissed Sam.

            Dean shook his head. “Not the kids, numskull,” he paused, “Them too, though. The mom’s are who I’m talking about.”

            Sam laughed breathlessly. “You’ve got some issues.”

            “Shut-up,” Dean stared into his drink, “So, how’s the research coming?”

            “Honestly I’m still not entirely sure what we’re dealing with.”

            “Did you try that online encyclo-whatchamacallit? Wiki-something?”

            “Wikipedia? Dean, that’s really not a reliable source,” Sam sighed, “I’ve got Bobby looking into it, though. He’ll give us a call if he finds anything.”

            The low buzz of the humble bar filled the room for a moment, resounding off the bottles lining the walls.

            “This is real fucked up, Sam,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “Five kids in less than six months, all different ways. Y’know, none of the kids talk about it. I’ve heard the teachers a bit but they seem to avoid the topic as much as possible.”

            “Nobody wants to talk about kids dying, Dean. I think we’ve just gotten used to it.”

            “Well isn’t that a shitty deal,” Dean laughed into his drink before chugging the last few gulps.

            “Mr. Ackles, it’s a Monday.”

            Dean did not respond.

            Sam cleared his throat. “Jensen, I think the- uh, young lady is talking to you.”

            “What? Oh,” Dean swiveled in his seat, “Amy?”

            “It’s Mia,” she laughed.

            “Mia, hi there,” Dean smiled wryly, “Mia… what are you doing in a bar.”

            “My mom works here,” she pointed behind the counter, “She’s not single.”

            “I wasn’t-” Dean cleared his throat.

            “Mr. Ackles, I’ve been here for twenty minutes waiting while you sat there drinking. Don’t worry, I don’t judge. My stepmom’s a teacher and my dad’s an alcoholic. So you’re situation is quite familiar to me.”

            “Don’t you have school in the morning?” Sammy piped in, smirking.

            “Pft, it’s only two am. I’ll just take some naps during classes,” she caught herself and laughed uncomfortably, “Except yours, Mr. Ackles. Who could sleep during your art class? Well, Maddy, but certainly not me. I’m gonna go wait in the car.”

            Mia slipped off her stool and directly onto the floor.

            “Didn’t mean to do that. I’m fine,” she rasped between fits of laughter.

            “Well, she’s… exuberant,” Sam commented.

            “Ain’t that the truth. She’s one of those theatre kids. Real loud kid.”

            “Awe, you’re starting to sound like a real teacher.”

            Dean wagged his finger without batting an eye, “Don’t you even start.”

            An hour later, the boys were gone, the bar was quiet, and all was still. The last car pulled out of the parking lot.

            “Who was that you were talking to at the bar?”

            “Mr. Ackles. He’s the new art teacher, the one that’s covering for Mr. Ruby. He’s only been there for about a week but he’s already made quite an impression,” Mia responded.

            “Ooo~! Do you like him?” her mom gave her a quick smirk.

            “Mom, please.”

            “What, too old?”

            “Hell no. He’s just a bit of a doofus. He asked us to paint self-portrait yesterday but the only parameters for the project that he gave us were to ‘draw our face, but, y’know, if we didn’t like our faces we could change it up a bit and he’d give us extra marks’.”

            “A mother notices things, sweetie. You’ve been dressing pretty nicely the past week or so.”

            “Oh, and that means I’m into a guy?”

            “Don’t take that tone.”

            “Sorry.”

             And the night was quiet once more.


	2. Class is in Session

Technically, Fredericksville was a city, though it was only given that title marginally. It had two high schools on either side of the river that divided the city. So it wasn’t a small town but, rather, a small city. It was small nonetheless. Over 2’000 students attended Fredericksville High and there were roughly 300 teachers. The kids who cared enough to know one another and the same went for the teachers.

            Mia hadn’t known Grant Harbor, the first victim, not on a personal level. He was a sports kid, soccer or something, high grades, attractive, popular as it went. He was quiet and attentive. They found the body in a gym locker his head sliced open, brain removed. His legs were cut off at the knee.

            Carrie Whitman was discovered without teeth or eyes. Mia had never met her either.

            Brittney Knight didn’t have anything left inside of her when they found her. It took them a week to find her body and by that time mold had started to form around the incision. That’s when they figured out the weapon was a kitchen utensil; a used kitchen utensil. They reviewed the body and found traces of food on every one of them. Brittney was a co-worker of Mia’s.

            Taylor Stewart was missing arms and Emily Hill didn’t have a skull. No, her face was still there, it was only the skull. Mia had classes with both of them.

            Mia hadn’t cried over any of them. You could call her heartless but she hadn’t cried when her grandmother died either or even during the last Harry Potter film. She just couldn’t cry. Inside, the pain was there, and it was strong and growing. A void eating her away on the inside, one more death and she’d crack. The psycho-therapist said she was the ‘most mentally healthy teenager’ she’d seen but Mia couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was wrong.

            On Tuesday, Mia napped during first, second, and fourth period so she was fairly awake by sixth period art.

“So Mr. Ackles, your first name starts with a ‘J’, right?” Mia asked, pointing out the plaque reading ‘J. Ackles’ on his desk.

“Yeah,” he replied monotonely, staring blankly at his computer screen.

“So what’s your first name, then?”

He picked up his plaque and looked at it for a moment. “Jensen.”

“So it’s not Dean?”

He pursed his lips. “Nope.”

Mia leaned on his desk. “The guy you were with called you Dean last night. Is it nickname or something? Your middle name?”

“Y’know you’re really full of stupid questions today, aren’t you?” He paused, glaring at her, “It’s, um, now don’t you tell nobody this, alright? I, uh, used to be an actor. My buddy last night played at character on the show too and our character names sorta stuck, alright?”

“Really? What’s the show called? I gotta see this.”

“Yeah, it’s named after this historical dude called Nunya Biznass,” Dean snickered and turned back to his computer, “How’s the show coming, anyway, kiddo?”

“Not so good considering it was cancelled.”

“What?” Dean looked up, “Why?”

“Y’know… with all the shit that’s been going on this past semester. They cancelled anything that had to do activities outside of school hours.”

“Shit, that sucks Mia.”

Mia laughed heartily. “Mr. Ackles you need to learn to watch your mouth.”

“Shut it, kid.”

“Really, Mr. Ackles, you’re so charming. It’s a wonder why you’re spending all your time in bars with your ex-cast-mates,” Mia rolled her eyes, each word ebbed with sarcasm, her tone changed, “Who was your friend last night? I mean, what was his name?”

“Sammy?”

“Right, but was that his real name or just the name of his character on your show?”

“Uh, both. The irony, eh?”

“That’s not irony, it’s a coincidence. You obviously didn’t major in English.”

“Yeah, that’s because I majored in art.”

“Okay, Dean.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Can’t stop me now.”

“You have no respect for me, do you?”

“You want respect you gotta earn it,” she smiled, before adding, “You should’ve been a gym teacher.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed, flexing a bit.

Mia rolled her eyes before taking her seat just in time for the bell.

 _Another class wasted talking to the adorable nincompoop,_ thought Mia as she gathered her things.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean collapsed onto the motel bed, “She wants me.”

“And how do you figure that?” Sam asked, uninterested.

“She keeps sassing me. It’s how the kids flirt nowadays.”

Sam’s eyebrows perked. “From the sounds of it, you were sassing back, Dean.”

“Well, yeah.”

“So you’re encouraging her. How old is she?”

“Sixteen. But she looks-“

“Dean, I don’t want to hear that.”

“Sam, I’m not serious. I’m just saying-“

“She’s a kid.”

“Jesus, I know. You’re such a kill-joy. I wasn’t even thinking about, y’know. But she is throwing herself at me; you gotta at least admit that, Sammy.”

“Sure, Dean.”

“Any news yet?”

“Yeah, I was, uh, I was talking to the local cops and they thought they had the killer at first. Guy’s DNA was everywhere. They even had him in custody but the next body shows up and it’s different DNA and they look into it and the first dude has an alibi. So with each body there was different DNA, different weapon, all kitchen utensils, though. And the victims are all different too; athletes, geeks, boys, girls, blonds, brunettes. The body parts that are missing are different too.”

“So, what? We got a shape shifter on our hands?” Dean suggested.

“I don’t think so. This is different. Plus some of the weapons have been silverware and no skin… residue.”

“Oh, demon possession?”

“You think I didn’t already think of that?” snapped Sam.

“Well, I don’t know! Get to the point.”

“Demon possession seems like our best option but what demons would want with all these, um, body parts?” asked Sam.

“Hey, man, I don’t like to ask myself what demons do in their spare time.” Dean raised his hands defensively.

“Dean, I don’t even want to know what goes on in your head.”

“Damn right, you don’t,” Dean mumbled before drifting to sleep.

Sam sat up late, reviewing the case files and researching and across the river Mia was doing the same. She was in bed far earlier than Sam. There’s only so much darkness a person can handle in the dead of night. One might argue that Sammy is a person too but Sam is the exception to the rule and you should hope that that never happens to you. You can never go back after the darkness corrupts you. Silently we wish to know, we wish to be hardened by experiences but after we are it never leaves. Cry while you’re still able because eventually the tears lose their meaning.


	3. In the Dark of Night

Mia had never died and she didn’t want to, at least not soon. Everywhere people were dying and that was easy to accept. It isn’t as easy to accept that people are dying around you. People your age, people you’ve met, people who didn’t want to die either. That’s when life gets scarier. It starts for most around 30. They’re attending far too many funerals and they start to think, ‘Am I next?’ And that question is dangerous. Some people think that the question will prepare them, will save them. It doesn’t though. The question tears them apart, rips the gently laid seams holding their insides together stitch by stitch. We’re all ragdolls on the inside, wearing our smiles to cover the thread.

After dark Fredericksville High started to look like the set of a horror film. The only source of light being the windows at the end of each hallway, where the moonlight would steadily creep up the stairs and bathe its finite radius in cool white light, and the vibrant EXIT signs that ominously shone in red. Kids used to gossip about the things that stalked those hallways after school hours. Sometimes there were casual break-ins where no one was hurt but everyone was scared.

Luckily Dean didn’t have to break-in; he had keys. It took more than oddly lit hallways to scare Dean so he walked about the school comfortably.

Mia crossed through the school parking lot after every shift at work. She relished standing in the middle of the empty stretch of pavement and staring up at the stars before catching the last bus home. Sometimes she’d get lost in the infinity of the sky and miss her bus, it wasn’t one of those nights. Overcome with stress, Mia didn’t even glance at the expanse of glittering night just above her head.

She teeter-tottered on the ground, kicking at the grass and greeting the occasional squirrel. As she stared out into the parking lot something caught her eye; a Chevy Impala parked near the school entrance.

Dean’s car had quickly become recognizable among the students and staff of Fredericksville High. It was one of the nicest cars to be owned by a member of the faculty (second only to Mr. Bean’s Lambourgini). Upon spotting the vehicle, Mia knew that Dean was inside the building which took a load of stress off of her shoulders. She had two options: wait by the car for Mr. Ackles to emerge and coerce him into escorting her through the school to retrieve her school work which she’d left in his class; or she could go in and look for him. With a moment’s hesitation, the latter seemed the best choice, especially with the night’s chill placed into consideration.

Mia tentatively jostled the door; it was unlocked. She crept through the creepily lit corridors and suddenly became all too familiar with her old fear of the dark. Every shadow oozed with malicious intent and she could swear she heard the faint tapping of feet around every corner. Her steady walking pace became a run and before she knew it she was frantically running about the hallways, her breath heavy in her ears out of time with roar of her heart beat. She gasped with relief upon seeing Mr. Ackles.

“Mr. Ackles,” she heaved, “Thank God!”

“What are you doing here?” he rumbled in a low voice.

“I forgot my bag and I wasn’t even going to come in but I saw your car and I thought that made it okay I guess. It’s just that I have homework and I know that’s no excuse but I don’t know, I’m scared okay. God, none of that made any sense,” Mia rubbed her neck stressfully.

“Calm down, kiddo,” Dean comforted from a distance, “Hey… hey, calm down.”

“I just…I’m not a fan of the dark,” she breathed heavily, “I thought I heard footsteps in the gym and then in the basement but it must have just been you.”

Panic flooded Mia’s core. “It was you right?”

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” replied Dean hesitantly, “Come a little closer, would ya? You shouldn’t be in here, c’mon.”

Mia took a few gentle steps forward and stopped.

“What is it?” asked Dean.

Mia hushed him, cutting him off.

She let the silence fill her mind before speaking again. “I thought I heard something. Footsteps just behind mine.”

“It was probably nothing,” Dean swallowed.

“Yeah,” Mia started towards him once more, quickening her pace.

She stopped quite suddenly, whipping around. Without turning to face him, Mia grasped Dean’s arm tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” she rasped, “There’s someone there.”

Dean looked and saw nothing.

“It’s gone,” whispered Mia, “Sh and listen.”

Straining her ears, Mia caught the gentle tapping of feet on the linoleum moving ever so slowly.

“We should-” she choked on her words.

“Move,” said Dean, pushing her backwards.

Mia started to run. Over her footfalls she heard the click of a gun. Dean – Mr. Ackles, her teacher, had a gun and was brandishing it with ease as he hurried after her never breaking gaze with the shadows behind them.

In the impala, Mia was settling down with unease from her hysteria.

“Dean- Mr. Ackles, I-” She started.

“Where do you live?”

“What?” Mia stared at her teacher.

“Where do you live?” he repeated, “I’m driving you home.”

She scoffed at him. “Yeah, ‘cause that’ll look real good. My mom may joke about us seeing one another, but if she sees you dropping me off you’ll have the cops breaking in your door.”

“You’re mom jokes about us seeing one another?” He tore his eyes from the road momentarily.

“Oh my god, focus on driving,” she stated, exasperatedly pushing her hair back.

“Okay, okay,” Dean stared down the street, “Won’t your mom get worried? What do you expect me to do?”

“Just calm ‘er down there, I’ll tell her I went to Georgia’s or something. Besides, it’s a long drive and I can’t ask you to do that,” she paused for moment, simply to breathe, “What was that at the school?”

“I don’t know,” Dean told her blandly.

“Right, ‘cause you’re an art teacher,” uttered Mia maliciously.

“Hey. I don’t expect you to be nice but don’t get all teenagery on me.”

“Surprise, Dean, I’m a kid, no matter what else you’ve deluded yourself into thinking about me,” Mia snapped, “I don’t expect you to treat me like an adult but I expect you to treat me like an intellectual. Tell me straight up; what just happened?”

“And I’m being serious when I say I don’t know,” shouted Dean, “Listen. It could be a lot of things, I just don’t know yet. I’m working on it.”

Mia paused before continuing, hesitant to speak what was on her mind because she knew all too well the question couldn’t be unsaid and she still wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer.

Her voice a lot quieter than she intended, Mia asked, “Is it what’s been killing the kids?”

Dean clenched her jaw. “Probably.”

“Oh,” she responded.

As they raced about the night in his car, Dean explained who he was and about his “profession”. The world got a little less real for Mia that night, as fact began to merge with fiction, but somehow it was easier to keep a grip on reality when it isn’t plagued with normality. This was what Mia had hoped for her entire life but it’s debatable whether it was what she needed. Regardless, everything changed, even more so as the night wore on.


	4. Reality Shift

There were many decent hotels in Fredericksville, in fact, it was difficult to find a shitty one. And yet, Sam and Dean had managed to find the sketchiest little two story motel resting by the river. The white siding was peeling and the roofing tiles clung dangerously to the gutter. It stood sturdy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Mia and Dean sauntered into the hotel room at half past two in the morning.

“Dean, listen to this,” Sam began but a quick glance away from his computer screen caused him to halt in his tracks, “Jensen, why is um-”

“She knows, Sam,” sighed Dean, settling into an armchair and kicking off his boots.

As Dean sat, Sam stood looking down at his elder brother.

“Yeah, okay. I see,” Sam threaded his fingers through his hair, “Okay, but how and why does she know?”

“I saw it,” Mia offered tentatively.

Sam afforded her an incredulous look before returning to his brother. “And what exactly is it?”

“I still don’t know,” Dean was already pouring himself a drink.

“But you saw it?” asked Sam.

“No, she did,” Dean replied, motioning to Mia with his glass laden hand.

With Sam staring her down, Mia struggled to respond. “It kept to the shadows, I only really saw its form.”

Sam was pacing. “So you achieved nothing and got a kid involved. Great job, Dean, top notch work.”

The room held a heavy silence for a while as Sam paced and Dean drank.

“You, um,” Mia spoke up, attempting to end the awful blankness in the air, “You were saying something as we were coming in?”

“Yeah, right,” Sam sat down, “It looks like we’re dealing with multiple… somethings here.”

“How to you know?” inquired Mia.

“Well, while you guys were off on your adventure, there were two more kills; opposite sides of town, time of death within 15 minutes of each other, give or take, same MO. There’s no way the killer could’ve travelled the distance within that time frame, no matter what we’re dealing with,” Sam replied, reopening his laptop.

“What if it’s an angel?” said Dean.

“An angel, really Dean?” Sam laughed but the two shared a serious look, “We know they can teleport…”

“If angels can teleport then why would it feel the need to chase Dean and I through the school?” Mia asked.

“You guys were at the school?” concern crossed Sam’s face as stared into his computer, “How long ago were you guys there?”

“About two hours ago. Why?” Dean responded hurriedly.

“Because the police chief just e-mailed me this,” he swiveled the computer to face Dean and Mia.

_ALERTED TO SOUTH SIDE SCHOOL DUE TO NOISE COMPLAINTS. FEMALE  BODY FOUND AND RETRIEVED IN BASEMENT LOUNGE. ANALYTICS TEAM WILL START TO WORK ON ID-ING IT AT 7:00. FORWARDING IMAGES._

Dean opened the files without thinking and the images flashed in front of Mia’s eyes.

She was nearly unrecognizable but Mia still knew. Even with her chopped down to the scalp and her throat slashed. Even with her eyes wide, dry, and scared, perpetually staring into oblivion. Even with her body limp and disheveled. Even with all of the life and vibrance that made her who she was drained from her corpse. Mia still knew, because she knew her best-friend inside and out.

Sam shut the screen but Mia had already absorbed every pixel of information. She didn’t need a photographic memory to remember this exact moment for the rest of her conscious existence. Yes, this would stick with her.


	5. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions were high, but the night starts to cool down.

“You can have your pick of the beds, Dean or I will take the floor,” Sam’s voice reverberated throughout the tiny bathroom.

Mia stared into her reflection. She hadn’t ugly cried in a long time and the tear stains that formed between every slight crease on her face aged her by years. Her petit nose glistened with wet boogers. Sniffling, Mia attempted to clear some snot but only achieved nothing as a small whimper escaped instead.

“I’ll just take the floor,” she called back, her voice more broken than she’d wanted.

Heaving herself away from the counter, Mia momentarily leant against the doorknob for stability.

“No, we couldn’t let you,” Mia stepped out of the bathroom, “Do that,” Sam finished, regarding Mia in full.

“It’s okay,” Mia smiled, “I like the floor; it’s comfy.”

Sam searched her face worriedly, not even hinting any subtly in his concern. Looking at him, all Mia wanted to do was bury her face in his chest and sob, she wanted to feel the warm comfort of his hands and forget about everything as he held her.

Pushing past Sam, Mia continued, “I just need some pillows and a blanket and I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she laughed, “Besides, wouldn’t the safest place be in between you two? It’s perfect.”

“If you say so,” Sam gathered pillows from the two beds on the floor between them, “You’re so tiny, I’m a little worried I’ll fall out of my bed and crush you in my sleep.”

“Do you make a habit of falling on top of the girls you keep on your floor?” Mia joked.

“No, most of them take a bed,” Sam laughed.

Mia grinned. “So you have a lot of girls over, then?”

“I see what you did there,” Sam smirked as he piled more pillows and topped them with a blanket.

Mia sat atop her pillow fortress. She stared at the walls, their patterns etching into the back of her mind. As she looked on she could almost see them dance, see a goblin battling a spider over god only knows what. A cold night chill woke Mia from her day dream.

“I should be getting to sleep,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Sam replied in hushed tones, “You should.”

“G’night, Sam,” Mia whispered, tucking herself beneath the blankets.

“Good night,” he said as he flicked the lights off.

In the darkness Mia lay awake, listening to gentle clicking and clacking of Sam typing; if it had ever fallen into a rhythm, Mia might have slept, but the typing game sporadically and so Mia’s sleep never came at all.

At some point Dean returned with what sounded like chips.

“She asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah, she went to bed a few hours ago.”

“Good,” Dean paused, presumably to eat another chip but possibly for dramatic effect, “How’s she holding up?”

“I don’t know, Dean, I really don’t,” Sam said agitatedly.

“Are you pissed with me? C’mon, Sam, tell me straight up.”

“Listen,” Sam began venomously, “I have no clue what’s going on in this town but, whatever it is, you dragged a sixteen-year-old girl into it!”

“We were way younger than that when we started,” Mia heard the hiss of a bottle following Dean’s statement.

Sam’s voice rose to speaking level. “That’s not a justification, Dean! We got involved because we didn’t have a choice. Dad made us.”

“Hey! I’m not forcing her to do anything!”

“You don’t have to; you’re an adult, she’s a kid. You’re setting an example. I bet if you told her just one story about what we’ve been through she wouldn’t even think of this life.”

“It’s too late now, Sam, she knows.”

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and the sound of typing resumed.

“It’s not like we’re going to take her out hunting,” Dean muttered half-jokingly.


	6. Low Battery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia is woken by her phone buzzing.

A persistent gentle hum carried Mia into woken world. Her eyes opened to darkness, slowly a blue light revealed the outline of the contents of the motel room. The empty armchairs stood slyly in the corner, making the scene all that more lonely. Mia sat up amidst her pillow mattress. She could just barely see overtop the mattresses on either side of her. Dean stretched over the bed to her left, the blankets only covering a small portion of his legs; he was still fully dressed. She looked to her right to see Sam curled beneath the blankets and even as he slept, worry was written all over his face. The buzzing continued as the brothers slept on.

Mia rose and wandered about the room, some flashing from the kitchen space caught her attention and she wandered dazedly over. She retrieved her phone from the counter and absently clicked the answer button as she slipped out the door onto the deck.

“Hello?” she mumbled into the receiver.

“Amelia Jeanne MacLean, where in the hell are you?” her mother shrieked.

“Mom? I-” Mia caught herself, “I’m at a friend’s.”

The truth was the worst possible thing she could tell her mother. _Yeah, Mom, I’m at my art teacher’s place. Where is it? Oh, it’s just at the creepiest motel in town, no biggee, I’ll be fine._ No, Mia would keep it clean and simple and hope her mother forgave her someday. It had taken years to break her lying habits and the Winchesters were not setting her on the right path again.

“Who’s house?”

“Liam’s. Listen, can we talk in the morning? It’s like five now, and I’m really not feeling up to talking,” her eyelids threatened sleep with growing spouts of lengthy blinking.

“A boy’s house!?” she gasped, “I’m coming to pick you up right now. What’s his address?”

“Mom, it’s Liam, he’s gay. He stayed with us for like a month when his parents kicked him out, remember?”

“Right,” she said quickly, “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m still coming to pick you up, though. Something’s happened,” she paused, “Georgia’s dead, Mia.”

For a fraction of a second that stretched into infinity, Mia stopped. At first, it was simply to recollect what had happened. Georgia was dead, and she knew that. Then it was to grasp the gravity of the words. _Georgia was dead,_ and she was never coming back. Lastly, it was a question. Georgia was dead, and how had her mother known that?

Mia’s sister was studying to be a police officer so Mia had picked up a few things through proof readings of essays and such. She knew for a fact that due to the time that the body was recovered, Georgia’s remains would be held until morning before they’d work on IDing it. Georgia’s mother and father didn’t know that their daughter was laying sliced and diced in a morgue, let alone Mia’s mom.

As she spoke, Mia’s voice droned lowly below the roaring of her heartbeat. “Don’t worry about it Mom. I love you and I’ll call you afterschool.”

“Mia? Mia? Amelia!”

Mia stood, caging her breath in her lungs, phone sitting loosely in her limp grip.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit,” just behind the cussing, a wailing emerged, “Shut your dirty mouth, you whore.”

And then, muffled in the background, “Kill me, please, kill me,” the sobbing continued.

A wail wallowed in her throat. Mia nearly crushed her phone in her attempt to hang up. Her will power and reasoning lost in a flood of emotion, Mia threw her phone forcefully across the parking lot. The silence of the night howled in her ears with deafening uncertainty and hopelessness as Mia collapsed against the wall in a fit of tears.

And in the distance, the sun was coming up.


End file.
